


Obligatio

by JackOfNone



Category: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-26
Updated: 2010-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackOfNone/pseuds/JackOfNone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horace and Vergil discuss commissions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obligatio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meretricula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/gifts).



> It's been a bit of a while since I've brushed up on my classics, so please be forgiving. Also, I'm taking Horace at face value here -- I doubt he was ever really as poor as he says, but it makes for a nice story.
> 
> I was pretty tin-hatty about Vergil and Horace too...don't tell my old thesis advisor that, though.

“I’ve put in a word for you,” Vergil said, tapping his stylus on his lips thoughtfully. He’d laid his head in Horace’s lap half an hour ago and seemed disinclined to move — Horace didn’t doubt that Vergil would fall asleep that way, if Horace let him.

“Wonderful,” Horace said. In the corner of Horace’s garret, one of his two lamps sputtered and died for lack of oil. “Just in time, I suppose. I’m not paid well enough as it is to afford all these late nights.” He looked at his tablet, flipped his own stylus over, and scrubbed out a stray word. “Does this Maecenas make you stand in the atrium for hours, or do you get your pay immediately upon bowing down to the floor?”

Vergil pursed his lips. “It’s not like that,” he said. “It’s not like that at all.”

“You have a true poet’s soul, _ocelle_ ,” Horace said. “You say things you want to believe.”

Vergil sighed heavily and pushed himself off of Horace’s lap, turning to face him sitting. “And you’re a hopeless cynic after only two cups of wine.” As gentle a criticism as that was, it was the most forceful thing he’d ever heard Vergil say to him. He’d touched a nerve, clearly, and Horace instantly regretted it.

“Maybe, maybe,” Horace said, in a gentle voice. He leaned over to brush a stray lock of hair from Vergil’s face, and Vergil did not object. “Anyway, if you think my verse is good enough for highborn men to pay for, then I’ve been giving it to you for free all night. I think I’m within my rights to demand some recompense.”

“And what,” Vergil said, a shy smile beginning to bloom on his face despite his best efforts, “exactly did you have in mind?”

“A kiss for every line of Sapphic meter, I think, might be sufficient,” Horace said. He leaned in close, sliding his hands into Vergil’s hair; Vergil made an appreciative sigh and blushed bright red like a maiden in a love poem. He always did.

“What about the hendecasyllables from earlier?” Vergil whispered. Horace grinned broadly.

“I hate hendecasyllables,” he said, leaning in to claim payment for his first verse. “Their cost is steeper, but I trust you'll feel it's worth your while.”


End file.
